The Irish standard., 1887-07-16

No can't see you. Don't you think
it is time to begin?
Mikael look at the stars. The hea-
yens are shining with Gods astral fires,
and away Oft yonder is the great Bear.
The bell-ringe reflects a moment.
No, not yet, wait little.
He needs no watch. The stars will
tell him when the time is come.
The heavens and the earth, the flmy
white cloud footing across the sky, the
soughing of the wind in the pine woods,
the ripping Of the river in the dark,
speak to him in language which he
! understands, for there is come to exist
between him and nature an intimate re-
lationship. He has not lived his whole
life in vain in this steeple.
Now the distant past rises before him.
He recalls the day when he first climbed
the tower holding his father by the
hand.
And he fancies he sees himself once
more bright and gleeful child, with
blond hair floating on the wind. But it
seems to him that that wind was not the
binding gale which drives the highway
Twas heavenly breeze from the noun
tain tops!
Such is the vision of his childhood; IN
his bird's-eye view Of the landscape men
look like dwarfs in the distance. cottages
dwindle down in size to suit them, and
the forest stretches away in boundless
space.
It is all there before me nevertheless,
saws the old man with tender smile as
his eye covers the narrow space with q
glance and fingers lovingly over the OBJ
scure picture.
And that, in reality, is his whole life.
AS child he did not see it's end, yet,
from first to last it is inclosed within that
morrow circle, as if it were tie hollow Of
mighty hand.
Yes, there is his whole life! He has
had rough roads TO travel, but he never
gave ont ON the journey. Now he be-
gins to feel as if he was nearing the end.
Meanwhile the hour is come. Having
cast one more glance up at the stars,
Mikael rose, took off his hat, made the
Sign OF the Cross and gathered up the
ropes in his hand.
An instant later the steeple was
a-trembling with the tumult Of the bells.
First one tuneful stroke then Sec
ond, third, fourtl.-then the brazen
tones pealed forth chime in notes grave
and f,onorous till their vibrations filed
tbs air with music.
Then the bells are silent
Formerly, when the service began the
old man was wont to descend from the
belfry and kneel near the door to Join III
the hymns and prayers Of the faithful.
But now he never quits the tower. The
fatigue of descending is great, and this
morning he feels q strange lassitude Ill
his weary limbs.
Sitting down Oh the bench the last
dying thrill Of the carillion fingers in his
ears as he loses himself III pensive rev.
erie.
ssOf what is he thinking? Does he
himself know?''
The loelfry is dimly lighted by flick
ering cay from his lantern. Above him
the ponderous bell still throbs with its
last note; faint sounds of singing rise
from the church below, and the night
wind dallies with the ropes.
Filled with sweet memories the old
mans hoary head falls on his breast;
they are singing the psalms he thinks,
and catching up the thread Of his vision
he finds himself once morein the church
lost in dreams of the past.
He hears the silvery voices OF tic
children round the altar where Pere
Naume, now dead, says the prayers in
broken voice, while the heads of hun
dreds of peasants bow and rise again like
field Of grain under the soft caress Of
the western wind. The peasants make
the Sign Of the Cross, and he knows
every one Of their faces. Alas! they are
faces OF the dead who died long ago.
There is his fathers grave counten-
ance-here, his elder brother kneeling
at his side. * And he himself,
Mikael, full Of health and strength, with
hopes of happiness and joyous life.
$ Where is this happiness
ROW?
and his thoughts like the dying flame
of q fire that is going out, fash up sud.
denly, throwing bright Light into the
renlotest corners Of his past life. At
tenuating toll, grief and misery-yes,
whither is that happiness flown? A hard
fete has furrowed his young face, bent
his sturdy frame and taught his lips tc